


where we love is

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before their adopted child goes to Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where we love is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nattycakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nattycakes/gifts).



> Written as a gift for nattycakes! It's unbeta'ed and I welcome any corrections. The prompt is at the end-notes.

Where we love is home,  
Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.  
~Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., _Homesick in Heaven_  


* * *

Harry knocks before he goes into Morgan's room, because Morgan is strident about things like that.

"Privacy, Dad!" she yells at him whenever he barges in, glaring in his direction with her dark eyes. "I just want a little privacy, is all!"

"What in the world would she be hiding, anyway," Draco will invariably drawl when a troubled Harry tells him about these little exchanges. "She's ten. Unless she's a dark lord in the making--"

"That is not even remotely funny," Harry snaps but he smiles a little because Draco seems to find it funny, and if _he_ can find some humour in that then maybe Harry can; it's just that Harry doesn't like closed doors. Even now, it's a bit of a struggle for him to lock the door to his and Draco's bedroom, but he does so anyway; they can be a bit loud when they're having sex and at breakfast the next morning, Morgan will have a very pinched expression.

In any case, he now knocks and waits.

"Come in." Morgan's voice is barely audible and Harry turns the door-knob with a tight feeling of apprehension. His daughter is sitting on the thick rug with her back resting against her bed's footboard, her legs crossed. Beside her is an open trunk. Clothing is neatly folded in reasonable stacks on the bed, and she has a few of them in her lap as well; however, she doesn't seem to be doing anything related to clothing and the folding thereof. She has her Hogwarts' letter in her hands, gazing down at it.

"Hey." Harry takes a seat on the small bench beside the door. "Need any help?"

Morgan shakes her head, her head still angled towards her letter. Her wavy black hair is short, framing her round face. She has large, lovely eyes and an expressive mouth set over a slightly pointed chin.

"Do you think they made a mistake?" she asks, and her tone is so subdued that it breaks Harry's heart a little; this is a far cry from his stubborn, opinionated daughter. "It could be a mistake."

"It isn't," Harry tells her. "How could it be?"

Morgan sits there for a few beats, breathing quietly. When she speaks again, it's in an uncharacteristically halting manner. "You're a hero, Daddy. Over there. Maybe they sent this because of _you._ "

"Darling," he says and he strives to keep his tone as firm as possible. "If you didn't have magic, that letter wouldn't have come to you, okay?"

She brightens a little at the word _magic_ and puts down the letter, groping to one side and then retrieving a long, narrow box from just behind the trunk. Opening it, she pulls out her new wand. It's a short, slender wand and it fits neatly in the middle of her small palm. It is made from banyan, with a core of the feather of an _impundulu_ , a lightning-bird. A particularly unusual mix, but Harry feels that this makes his daughter even more special.

He reaches out and pats her shoulder, and the smile which blooms on her face is so warm and wonderful.

\---

The day-caretaker, Nina, was a tall witch dressed in a compelling mixture of Muggle jeans, a loose button-up and open robes. She led them into a small brightly-painted room and asked them to wait.

"Of course," Draco answered, and managed to fit himself into a narrow armchair which seemed disinclined to accommodate his height and weight. Harry remained standing, staring at the door, willing it to open again. Thankfully, Draco didn't make any of his insightful remarks (those annoyed Harry, at times). He kept quiet and smiled whenever Harry glanced at him, a slight twitch of his lips. Harry tried to return the gesture, but the smile wouldn't remained nailed on his face.

He wanted to ask questions, but they would be questions he'd asked a million times already; or ones he had already answered when Draco posed them. _We're as ready as we can be_ , he told himself firmly and looked in Draco's direction once more. Draco seemed exceedingly serene; it was probably a result of his intense training with the How To Malfoy Manual. Ten years ago, this would have served to piss Harry off right quick. However, Harry had come to terms with quite a few things in his life and Draco, with all his idiosyncrasies, was one of them.

Draco sat up as the door swung open again, and Nina re-entered with a very small child in the crook of her arms. The baby looked at them and smiled, toothily. Harry smiled back, delighted with warm reaction. They'd met this child more than once as per the terms of adoption, and no one would ever convince Harry that this small person wasn't meant to be their daughter. He reached out and the baby instantly held out small arms as well, gurgling when Harry plucked her out of Nina's arms and hugged her. Draco got to his feet as well, standing close. The baby made funny little faces and laughed.

"Hello, dear Morgan," Draco said, in the tone of voice one would use when welcoming guests to tea. He reached out and took one of her hands, smiling when she squeezed tightly. "Very strong. I approve, child. You'll need that strength to smite your enemies."

"Don't tell her things like that," Harry said, more of a reflex than with any real sense of chiding, and then handed over their daughter to Draco's secure grasp.

Nina shifted from one leg to the other and Harry managed to pull away his attention from Morgan for a moment. The day-caretaker seemed uncomfortable, even distressed.

"Are you sure?" she asked, motioning to the baby in Draco's arms. "I mean, she's a Muggle-" she broke off and stared at Draco with wide eyes. For his part, Draco didn't look back at her; his general air indicated that he had apparently decided that Nina didn't exist anymore, as he did when annoyed or offended by someone.

Harry nodded, for that was all the answer he wanted to give. Morgan's birth-parents had been killed in one of Voldemort's many attacks. There had been an uproar when it had been leaked that Harry and Draco had intended to adopt a Muggle child, almost as huge a ruckus as there had been when they'd announce their engagement. The Ministry of Magic had gotten itself involved; the fallout had involved a crew of barristers and about nine months of debates in both the court and public spaces.

The legal team for the Malfoy-Potter union were firm in their stance that there was no legislation which barred the couple from adopting a Muggle child; in fact, there were a few previous cases in which magical couples had welcomed non-magical children into their homes (though these incidences occurred when there was not such a distinct separation in the two worlds). The final verdict was that if they wanted to adopt a Muggle child, then the laws under the Statute of Secrecy would be interpreted as such: they would not be allowed to live in any magical town, village or other gathering of their kind. They would also not be allowed to do magic, and there would be a very specific and powerful geis placed on them to ensure that this would be upheld.

This decree was stated publicly, and with an air of almost triumphant malice. It was patently obvious that Draco Malfoy would never agree to these terms.

They were all stunned when the Malfoy heir calmly accepted the ruling. Harry tried not to feel too viciously vindicated, but it was a near thing.

–

Growing a child without the help of their magic was...difficult, to say the very least. Morgan was ill on a very regular basis: bouts of fever and cold and odd ailments for which no paediatrician had a solution. To establish their identities in the Muggle world was a fairly simple matter, but every step without magic involved a great deal of hesitancy. All through it, in the back of his mind, Harry fully expected Draco to complain, or leave.

Draco was the one who was best able to give Morgan her medicine, and coax her to drink the milky nutritional supplement. It was Draco who learned to give their daughter injections, while Harry held her in his lap and turned his face away from the sight of the needle piercing the smooth, light brown skin. When Harry began to grow flowers and raise chickens, Draco deigned to 'muck about', content to focus on Morgan. Harry had underestimated him, and wasn't ashamed to admit it.

"Well, I thought I wouldn't make it, myself," was Draco's dry response. "But then, I have enough incentive to stick around, don't I?" He'd slyly stroked Harry's arm, waggled his eyebrows in a laughable attempt at seduction. Harry had rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help the laughter which fought past his lips. He could hardly resist reaching for Draco either, pressing against his slender form to drop light kisses along his neck and jaw.

Draco hummed, pleased and Harry wanted so badly to keep him that way.

A few weeks after Morgan's eighth birthday, Harry was at his gate selling some eggs when he heard a massive crash in the house, punctuated by a sharp yell from Draco. Hurriedly excusing himself from his neighbour, he'd raced up the stone pathway and burst into the kitchen. Draco stood near the sink, both hands held out towards their frantic daughter, but he seemed frozen in place. Next to the small table at which they ate breakfast, Morgan gazed down at the shards of plates which she had apparently dropped on accident.

Some of the fragments were floating in the air. Sharp white edges hovered like delicate butterflies a few inches from the ground. Harry could feel the weak wash of magic, something he hadn't felt for in so long. He felt the hair on his arm rise at the tickling sensation. It was easy to see what had happened: the plates had fell from Morgan's small hands, and when they'd smashed to the floor, a few of them bounced up again from the impact. If they hadn't been stopped, Morgan would have received some nasty cuts on her bare legs.

"Draco," he whispered, almost as frozen as his husband. "Are you--?" But it couldn't be Draco holding up the pieces like that; the magic felt unfamiliar. Harry knew how Draco's magic felt; it was strong and precise and he still could sense the muted power when they made love, throbbing like a heartbeat around Harry and in him. This magic snapped and quivered as if it wasn't quite sure what to do now. It quit, suddenly, and Morgan released a little shriek when the floating shards fell back to the ground, harmless.

"It's _her_ ," Draco murmured and Harry felt as if his eyes go wide. They narrowed, however, when two masked and black-robed individuals appeared in the kitchen, suddenly incongruous against the cheery, comfortable space. Morgan stumbled back in shock, and sat down heavily on the floor. Harry didn't think; through sheer instinct, he began to gather his magic, pulling it close to release it in whatever form his mind could conjure to protect his family.

"Wait!" One of them cried behind their mask, their voice muffled. They reached up, and pulled off the plain white mask and shoved it atop their head, revealing wide eyes set in a round, dark face. "Mr Potter, wait. Don't...we're not here to hurt you."

Harry paused, but did not allow the magic to dissipate; it built around him like a thunderhead preparing to release a torrent of rain.

"Morgan, get over here," Draco urged in a low voice and immediately, she scrambled up and hurried towards them, giving the two strangers an extremely wide berth. She hid behind Draco and peered back out at them.

"I'm Claymore, Verity Claymore." She motioned towards her partner, who also removed their mask. A thin-featured man stared steadily out from the deep cowl of his robe, light brown gaze flickering from face to face. He was tall, even taller than Draco. "This is Myung-soo Park."

"We are your Watchers," Park informed them in a ponderous tone. Claymore nodded, a reassuring smile on her face. "Assigned by the Ministry of Magic."

"What the blast are you watching us for?" Draco snapped and they both gave him identical curious glances.

"For your protection, Lord Malfoy," Claymore responded and Harry blinked at the honorific. "Without your magic, you're vulnerable to attack. We're assigned to make sure that doesn't happen...us and other agents, of course."

"And I'm sure you monitor if we use our magic," Draco said, and his voice was flat. Park nodded, a single dip of his head; his hair was long, falling in choppy dark strands around his face.

"That is so," Park allowed and he pressed his thin lips tightly together as if intent on on saying anything else. Claymore, for her part, had a very serene expression on her face, and she opened her mouth to speak.

"Magic?" Morgan whispered before Claymore could say anything, and Harry let go of his pent-up magic with a sigh. Morgan shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Harry knelt beside her and brushed away the wavy dark locks from her forehead. "Daddy...you can do magic?"

Harry felt a burn of emotion in the middle of his chest, a mix of many feelings; he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Yes," he told her. "We both can, darling...and so can you."

–

Morgan was nine years old when Harry and Draco took her into Diagon Alley for the first time; making their way through the Leaky Cauldron had been an experience onto itself. Morgan gripped Draco’s hand so tightly that both their fingers seemed bloodless, to Harry. She hung behind him as well, almost completely hidden by the stylish flare of Draco’s robes, and his impressive height.

(Harry had the suspicion that Draco wore the most expansive robes he could find, for that very reason; in any case, their daughter had been most intrigued by the garment, stroking the fine material gently and nearly placing her nose right against it in order to view the tiny details sewn in dark green thread against the black background.)

"Harry!" Hannah Abbott called out as soon as they entered into the large dining room. Harry gazed around; the space was a far cry from the dark and gloomy atmosphere he had seen as a child. Now, he could see past arched entries into those private parlours which had their doors standing open, and they appeared to be nicely appointed spaces, with comfortable-looking armchairs and low tables that waddled from one side of the room to another. The bar seemed both longer and wider, with a great assortment of fancy goblets behind clean glass doors. Harry went over to Hannah, who stood behind the bar with a great smile on her face.

"Hello!" She grinned, her eyes sparkling. "It's so wonderful to see you, Harry!" Her gaze trailed behind him and her smile grew a little more. "Hello, Malfoy."

Draco's voice was cool and cordial. "Hello, Hannah. Morgan, this is Mrs. Longbottom. We went to school with her."

Morgan said, "Hello, Mrs.Longbottom," but her small voice had a strained quality. Harry tried to give her a reassuring smile, but Morgan didn't look up at him at all.

"Nev thought you were coming over a bit later than now, he's popped off to Wiseacre's." Her eyes gleamed. "Would you like to wait for him here?"

"Er, no," Harry said, for he had a sudden image of reporters descending on them as soon as they found a cozy little corner in which to rest. "We'll see him in the Alley, I'm sure."

The courtyard in the rear of the pub was just as cold as Harry remembered it, chilly light seeping down from some opening above. He liked to think that this cool light was part of that border which separated the magical world from the Muggle one. He felt his anticipation grow, and looked down at his daughter to gauge her reaction.

To his dismay, Morgan looked as if she was being led to the gallows.

\--

"She hated it," Draco confirmed later that evening after they're returned from that first outing to Diagon Alley. He sat on the edge of the bed, still dressed in those wonderful robes. Harry had already changed into a pair of pyjama bottoms and an old, soft t-shirt. He nodded slowly; Morgan had become more and more quiet as they'd strode along the alley, her lips pressed tightly together. Nearly everyone had found a reason to stop them and speak to Harry, shaking his hand and bubbling over with joyous welcome. They did not speak to Draco, and only cast curious gazes at Morgan.

She had seemed far more relaxed when they had visited Ron at the Ministry. Ron, with the sensitivity developed by growing with a multitude of siblings, gave Morgan her space. She had wandered around his small office, peering at the jars filled with yellowish liquid and the bodies of small, unidentifiable creatures. When leaving, she'd offered Ron a big smile and shook his hand with all the calm civility she'd acquired from Draco.

That had been the only light moment in the whole trip. _She had hated it_ , Harry thought with apprehension. A magical child who didn't like the magical world.

"It was probably too much at once," Draco said, quickly unfastening the clasps at the front of his robe. Harry nodded; he should have known, really. Morgan was a chatty, bossy little thing at home. In public, she was reserved and watchful, staring at strangers with wariness. To bring her into the Magical world on such a busy day had been inadvisable.

"I was just excited to show her our world," Harry murmured, sliding down to lie on his side, facing away from Draco. "I didn't want her to be afraid, or.." He broke off, despondency floating free in his chest. Draco stroked down his arm, that consoling slide of his palm that was always such a great source of comfort. Harry felt Draco's long body curl against his back, hips cradling the curve of Harry's bottom.

Draco kissed the side of his neck and murmured in his ear, "I know, darling. She's more upset that she's disappointed you, somehow."

Harry tried to lurch out of bed, to run to his baby's room and tell her that it was okay, he wasn't angry with her but Draco's arm held him tight.

"She just fell asleep," Draco murmured. "Relax, Scarhead."

"Shut up, Ferretface," Harry retorted, relaxing back against Draco's chest with a tired sigh. Hesitantly, he asked: "If she doesn't want to live as a witch, do you think you could...do that?" He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the worst answer... but Draco had never failed him yet and never would.

Draco said, "As long as I'm with you and Morgan, I can do anything."

\---

"She's finished packing?" Draco asks when Harry steps into their room, which has been stripped bare of nearly a decade's worth of memories. They're moving back to the wizarding world, to Grimmauld Place. Kreacher is ecstatic, but mostly because a descendant of the most illustrious House of Black is returning to those hallowed halls. The few times they entered the house to have a quick look, the house-elf was exceedingly considerate towards Draco and Morgan, and dutifully ignored Harry except when receiving direct orders. Really, that is all Harry asks for.

"More or less." Harry gazes around their large, airy bedroom, stripped now of their personalities, their idiosyncrasies, even their mingled scents. It is fast becoming an empty space which will be a palette for another family, and Harry feels sadness at leaving this quiet, simple life. The memories of their neighbours will be subtly altered by the Watchers, and also those of the children and teachers at the small Muggle primary school that Morgan had attended. This is the price of their reinstatement: they will only exist as a vague recollection to those who were kind to them in this world; Morgan is very sad with that fact, but she says she understands and Harry believes her. She seems much more comfortable with the idea of magic and the realm so intricately woven with it, and he's so proud of her.

Most of the trunks with their belongings are waiting just next to the door. Rght after they see Morgan off at the train station, they'll make their way to Grimmauld Place. Harry hopes that she'll see Hogwarts as her second home, just as much as he hopes that she likes living at the Black House. He says just as much to Draco now.

"Oh, when I'm finished with it, it'll be perfect for us," Draco says, happily flicking his wand to finish packing. Harry watches him use his magic with that enviable grace, his wrist moving with natural ease. He stops abruptly and turns towards Harry, his grey gaze intent. "If you don't want to be there, darling, we can find something else."

Harry just grins at him. "As long as I'm with you," he says and Draco's smile is like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> #### Prompt
> 
> Harry/Draco the night before what they thought was a muggle child they adopted goes to Hogwarts! :D :D :D she’s been super super sick. :(


End file.
